Dear Space
by Moonlit Aria
Summary: "Everything that's going on millions of miles away is ensuring that I, as a civilian, will continue to live a life free from fear and destruction." [ Anne replies to Shane's letter, post-Dear Earth. Dedicated to the men and women in the service. ]


  
  
**Disclaimer**: _Space: Above and Beyond_ is not owned by more, nor would I put up the pretense that it is. I wouldn't mind owning Rodney Rowland, however, but that's another story. No infringement intended.  
  
**Author's Note**: I think that it seems only fitting that my first, official, piece of fan-fiction for _Space: Above and Beyond_ reflects the feelings of this point in history. The war in Iraq officially began last night, at 10 PM Eastern Time, and there are many emotions within the hearts of United States citizens and citizens of the world. However we as a people, a _planet_, may feel about George W. Bush, Saddam Hussein, the 'War on Terror,' and anything else, the facts cannot be ignored. Take away all the politics, all the agreements, all the disagreements, and all the speculation and you simply have what is always behind every battle ever fought on the face of this earth: men and women putting their lives on the line for a cause. The cause may be noble, it may be futile, it could be arrogant, and it could be unavoidable . . . whatever the cause is, whoever the people are, it cannot be denied that these souls are brave. And, because I believe that many are anti-war and unjustly anti-military, I felt the need to write this.  
  
**Dedication**: To the men and women who are the nameless, faceless heroes putting their lives selflessly on the line for their country and its citizens. And, to those friends and former fellow students who are neither nameless nor faceless, but always in my heart for their dedication and valor. It's a small tribute from a small person, but nevertheless written with heart-felt admiration.  
  
  
  
  


**Dear Space**  
_by Moonlit Aria_  
  
  
"War is delightful to those who have had no  
experience of it." - Desiderius Erasmus  


  
  
  
Dear Shane,  
  
Or, should I say Captain Vansen? Congratulations on your promotion and medal, the latter of which I hung on the baby's mobile. She adores it. Every night now, before I put her to bed, I tell her the story you wrote to me of what you did to receive it, a little toned down that is, and she hangs on every word. Right now, it's only the sound of my voice she listens to, but when she's older I'll tell her the whole thing. Though, honestly, I believe only you should be the person to tell her the version she'll remember most readily for the rest of her life.  
  
I know you're upset that Ed and I chose to name the baby Marion. The moment I said it and the moment he agreed that it was only fitting, I remembered those times when we - you, Emma, and I - would sit around and just talk about our plans for the future. At one point, you wanted to settle down, get married, and name your first girl Marion, after mom. At first, I resisted taking that away from you, because it seemed to be the only comfort you had in life, the only ray of light that broke through the dark clouds of anger and hatred and regret. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you found your niche in the Marine Corps and, I think, somewhere deep down I realized that you might not be coming home . . . and, if so, how could I preserve the memory of Marion Vansen any better than by naming my first daughter after her?  
  
It was a difficult decision, Shane, and one I did not come to lightly. Yes, in my video message, Ed and I were happily announcing our choice of name, but you know as well as I that I learned to smile to hide my inner-turmoil. You seethe and rage, I smile and conceal, while Emma picks and chooses her battles. And, whenever I think about that, I can't help but wonder if we would have learned different ways of behaving if Mom and Dad were still alive.  
  
You made the right choice to join the Marine Corps, even if it was to avenge the death of our parents, because I feel that they have been rightly avenged now . . . now that you're not only battling in their honor, but to ensure that peace prevails, their memory lives on, and their grandchildren are able to live in a world free of threat.  
  
There have been so many rumors going around lately about AeroTech's involvement in the war and the fact that they may be at fault for the alien's hostility. Even if that's true, humans are at fault, and it was all a mistake of miscommunication, I think I will still feel this way. The politics don't matter to me, Shane, because I know that you and your squadron and everyone else involved in this war is in it for the protection of the human race. Everything that's going on millions of miles away is ensuring that I, as a civilian, will continue to live a life free from fear and destruction.  
  
That's why every time I think about you questioning your decision to join the Marine Corps, I want to do everything in my power to let you know how wrong you are for even thinking that it could be anything else but the right course of action. No, I hate to think of you being deployed on alien planets without the faintest idea if you'll live to see your family ever again, let alone tomorrow, but I understand. It's hell, I'm sure, but there's something there that drives you on and it's no longer just about vengeance for the murder of our parents. There's something within you, Shane, not necessarily new, but something I haven't seen in a very long time. You're a brave, selfless, and courageous person . . . and I envy the fact that you're the one picking up the weapon to defend the children of the world I can only produce and nurture.  
  
I know that you're going to argue that defending and raising children are two equally important duties, so before you begin to think of your rebuttal, I'll tell you: you _are_ a mother. You're a mother to the world; to those who have mothers already, to those who don't, to the old, to those not yet born, and to every race. Everyone in the military is a mother or a father to the defenseless, the innocent, and the ones who haven't the power or courage to do more than pray for someone to save them.  
  
Yes, Shane, you did make the right decision. If you doubt yourself due to your initial motives of revenge, look now at your purpose for fighting. In your own words: _to defend the life of Marion Vansen-Bowman_. In my eyes, even if you senselessly killed a hundred Silicates, _that _statement would be enough to redeem you completely.  
  
I understand your desire to create something, most especially a life and even more so after the destruction war has pressured you to cause, because I felt it wholly and was driven to create the life of Marion Vansen-Bowman. Even months after the fruit had ripened and been reaped from the soil of my womb, I am in awe of the beauty of it and also the difficulty. They say it is easier to destroy than it is to create, but I believe they were only speaking of arts - the type of destruction that comes with war is difficult and painful, as well, I imagine. As difficult and painful as bearing a child and bringing it to birth. It really is being a mother, Shane. It really is.  
  
When you return home from this war - and I know now, with every fiber of my being, that you will - we'll raise our children together. I regret that I named my child Marion, for now I believe that I should have given her the name _Shane_ . . . although Marion was the mother who loved me and saved me from the gravest harm, you were the one who raised me. It wasn't Aunt Karen, or Grandma, or anyone else after Mom, aside from you. Somehow, I knew that you would join the military after college, because I knew that you were the kind of person who would give until you could give no more and never think of taking an ounce in return. You're precious to me, Shane, because you're my sister and my mentor. And, when the day comes, you'll be a wonderful mother to a child of your own, not the protector of the millions of children on Earth.  
  
I didn't name my child Marion because I wanted to instill within you doubt that you would ever be able to do so with your child, but simply out of fear that something such as that might happen. Now, I feel detrimental to the cause for which you're fighting, especially if I've led you to momentarily question your purpose. Throughout this letter, I've tried to express how grateful I am for your service and your love, but can only hope that it reaches you and you understand.  
  
I know you'll understand.  
  
You're my hero, Shane. From the time that you rescued my kitten from the lowest branch of the tree in Aunt Karen's back yard up until now, while I'm writing this and you're no doubt defending the human race from destruction, you've been my hero. You'll always be.  
  
I gave Marion a kiss, as you instructed, and told her the story of your Bronze Star. Tomorrow night, though, I'll tell her about Marion Vansen, your soccer game, and the medal you were awarded for your actions. I know what family means to you and it means the same to me. Not names, but actions. I hope mine can someday be as great and expressive as yours.  
  
I love you dearly, Shane, and I wish you well. Hopefully, by the time this letter reaches you, you'll be a Major and on the brink of ending the war. Even if it does take as many months for you to receive this letter as it took for me to receive yours, I'll be happy that you got it, at least, and you know how I feel.  
  
Give your friends my love and thanks, also, and let them know how very proud I am of them, too, for being just what they are in life . . . heroes.  
  
  
Love Always,  
_Anne Vansen-Bowman_


End file.
